Sometimes My Soul Needs a Locked Door

motherhood, noise, and searching for the song

My life is loud. I am married to a man who has music flowing through him like blood. In this season of intense creative flow, almost every time he sits down, he starts writing a song. I love it. I love him. I love his music. But there is the writing and rewriting, locking doors and working out melody lines, stacking tracks and noise in every pitch and instrument imaginable.

My eight children are human, which means they do a lot of talking, yelling, screaming, laughing, crying, stomping, dumping, crashing, singing, slamming, banging… They are also musicians, which means someone is always plunking away on the piano. I love it. But there are a lot of bad notes. A lot of playing too loud. A lot of repetition and practice at inconvenient times.

There are times when I crave quiet more than anything else in life.

There is the outside noise of music and voices and running feet, and there is the inside noise of thoughts and feelings and emotions running high in my mind. There are the wordless thoughts that bang against the bars of my brain, begging to be set free in phrases and sentences on paper. There are the relentless questions that want to haunt every makeshift house of solitude I try to build around myself.

Sometimes the noise builds up to toxic levels and I have to find a breathing space of quiet. Sometimes my soul needs a locked door.

And inevitably, what happens is this: when I can sit in the quiet long enough, I begin to hear impressions of the coming song.

I love being a mother. When I think of all the ways I imagined using up my life, they seems comically unimportant compared to the real work of bringing these living, breathing, beautiful people into the world. Nothing I wanted to say or do is more profound than this hazel-eyed daughter of mine standing there, alive, brown hair in a messy bun, violin perched like a bird on her shoulder, making a song so sweet it will bring tears to your eyes. Or the baby with golden curls, existing, running in his diaper back and forth across the living room floor, pounding out a rhythm with his fat little feet, making every one of us sing with laughter. The eyes, the hearts, the hands, the hopes, all here, alive in this moment, making up the sounds that are unique in this family, this home, this time, this world. When I can get into the quiet long enough to hear the heart of God, I realize that the work that I am doing, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, is quietly heroic. It is making up a good life. And I find that what I often hear as noise is just the beginning of a beautiful song.

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Dear friends,

Praying that you find some rest for your soul and some measure of quiet to hear the song in your own life. Last weekend, Randy and I were gifted a night away at a beautiful retreat center just outside of Clarkesville called Christwalk in the Valley. (I highly recommend this for anyone looking for a quiet place to work or pray or write or just soak up some beauty. The quiet was palpable. It was a healing balm for my soul. I have hopes to one day host a journaling retreat at this beautiful location…) My saint of a sister took care of our kids overnight, feeding them four meals (is there anything that feels more like a vacation than having a break from planning, prepping, cooking, and cleaning four meals in a row???), playing games with them, making Christmas crafts, and giving them wonderful memories of their own weekend away.

While we were gone, we recorded Randy’s new song, Safe in the Shadow of El Shaddai. We sang it sitting in the beautiful outdoor chapel, surrounded by falling leaves and that beautiful, tangible quiet. I hope this song blesses you this week, and that you will find true rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

Sending love,

Mackenzie

Journals For Sale!

My book and two journals are now on sale in our family shop. (If you’d like a signed copy, please let me know in the comment section of your purchase!) You can also purchase my journaling course there, currently on sale for $37 for a great gift for the journal-lover in your life.

My book and blank 8x10 journal, 108 unlined off-white pages

Umbrellas journal with a drawing of my oldest daughters on a rainy day at the beach. 8x10 inches, left-side dot-grid, right-side unlined, 108 off-white pages